


petrol blues (hallelujah, hallelujah)

by severalgeckos



Series: this is all yours [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, baby’s first anxiety attack, maybe? - Freeform, rk900 is called cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severalgeckos/pseuds/severalgeckos
Summary: “i've found a love to love like no other can.”Two gunshots show Cain what certain new emotions feel like.





	petrol blues (hallelujah, hallelujah)

**Author's Note:**

> title and quote from nara by alt-j, aka what i was listening to while writing this. 100% recommend
> 
> a big thank you to @pl-6oo on tumblr for the prompt <3 i hope it’s to your liking

_It wasn’t supposed to happen like this._

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, the bullet hitting where they were only moments before. None of this is right— the suspects were supposed to be unarmed, it was supposed to be an easy arrest. They weren’t supposed to have expected them, they weren’t supposed to open fire, Gavin wasn’t _supposed to_ get shot, and there are so, so many _supposed to_ ’s flooding Cain’s thoughts.

Statistics flood his field of vision— probability that Gavin bleeds out before he can get medical attention, probability that their assailants catch up to them, probability that Cain has to see Gavin’s brains blown out right in front of him. Every time he tries to dispel them, they’re replaced by something else. The heartbeat against his chest is climbing past 100 bpm. There’s blood flowing from his shoulder at a steady rate, and even more from the wound on his head. Combined, he will lose consciousness in approximately—

_He can’t think about this right now._

Not when he can still hear two pairs of footsteps behind him. They’re slowing down, however. Becoming more careless, more erratic. One of them fires a shot right as he ducks into a narrow alley, and Cain realizes that they can’t run any further. Once their attackers follow them into the alley they’re sitting ducks. He can’t take that chance, can’t risk losing his ~~friend~~ _partner_.

Cain sets him down before moving in front of him as he draws his gun. _Two bullets left. Approximately three seconds until they turn the corner._

It all happens in an instant.

As the first man comes into view he fires his pistol, piercing through Cain’s jacket and into his torso. Unflinching, the android aims directly between his eyes and pulls the trigger. The accomplice, not far behind, manages to hit him in the chest ( _in the area of his thirium regulator, but he could care less about the warnings flashing across his vision)_ before being taken down by his last bullet.

And then, silence.

Gavin lets out a soft groan from behind him, and suddenly all of the dread from before crashes into him like a tidal wave. “Cain?” His voice is hoarse and trembling and _goddammit, Cain never wants to hear him sound like that ever again._

His LED cycles from red to yellow as he calls in for help, and as soon as he’s done he’s at Gavin’s side. “Hold still,” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady in spite of the way his hands shake as he ties his jacket tight around the wounded shoulder. “You’re going to be fine.” _Is he saying that to reassure Gavin or himself?_

“The fuck happened?” he croaks out, flinching as pressure is applied to the wound on his scalp. Warnings flash across Cain’s vision: _symptoms of a concussion, blood loss at approximately 15%, heart rate at 114 bpm. Possible acute subdural hematoma, needs urgent treatment or else—_

“Never knew that you guys could have _actual_ panic attacks,” he mumbled. Maybe it’s the blood loss, or the concussion, but there isn’t any malice in his voice.

_Symptoms of a panic attack: rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, trembling or shaking, fear of loss of control or death._

The list goes on, and, well. Maybe Gavin’s right.

“Hey. Look at me,” Gavin says, placing his good hand on the android’s shoulder and meeting his gaze. “Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?”

“Detective— _Gavin_ , this isn’t _important_ right now, you’re—“

“Please?” His lips quirk up into a small smile, a genuine one. “Y’know, you’re always trying to get me to say that. Can’t say no now, yeah?”

Cain pauses and bites back whatever retort he had in favor of taking the detective’s advice. _In, out._ Technically it shouldn’t help, but the repeated motion is soothing.

“I… used to have these a lot. Still kind of do, but they’re not as bad anymore.” He pauses, allowing the cold April rain to fill the silence. “The first one’s are usually the worst.”

“I believe that I’m supposed to be the one taking care of _you_ right now,” he deflects. The other man’s words made him feel… _something_ , but it was just the concussion speaking. Nothing more.

“You’re my partner,” he murmurs, looking him in the eyes with uncharacteristic softness. “‘S what you signed up for when you took the job, tin can.”

 _Concussion and blood loss,_ his mind repeats to him.

  


* * *

  
  


As it turns out, Cain was in more need of help than Gavin. Well-over half of the thirium in his body was gone when the paramedics arrived at the scene— apparently, one of the major valves near his thirium regulator had been torn in the crossfire. When he thinks back on it, he remembers dismissing several system warnings regarding his damaged biocomponents and thirium loss so that he could focus his attention on Gavin’s safety.

Meanwhile, the man in question was actually _extraordinarily_ lucky. The bullet had grazed the left side of his head, causing a decent concussion but not any serious fractures or other complications. Also, the shot to his shoulder had avoided damaging any bones or major arteries. Despite all of that, however, Gavin’s recovery was still longer— and more dangerous— than Cain’s. The doctors said he would need at least couple days in the hospital, followed by a month of rest at home until _possibly_ being allowed to do non-strenuous work at the precinct.

And that’s how Cain found himself here, a day later, in the hospital waiting room.

To put it lightly, he _hated_ it.

The walls were tinged a sickly yellow color that he couldn’t look away from. There was an overbearing scent of disinfectant in the air, the discomfort it caused only magnified by the constant noises. Machines beeping, wheels rolling across the floor, doctors speaking and the occasional sound of someone’s muffled sobs.

Sitting there for hours in a tiny, uncomfortable metal chair, Cain thought he was about to go insane. His hands were clenched shut in his lap yet they still trembled with excess energy, the new thirium in his veins feeling almost electrified. There was an aching phantom pain in his chest where the replacement metal and silicon covered his previous gunshot wound, and the shallow, quick breaths he took only exasperated it.

It almost felt worse than the actual incident. There was no immediate, overwhelming panic to drown out the creeping dread that he felt. He was alone.

Alone, waiting to see if his partner was okay.

 

—

 

Cain didn’t realize how tense he was until he stepped through the door and felt it all melt away.

Sitting up in his hospital bed, Gavin was chatting with one of the nurses as if he hadn’t been shot the night before. His eyes turn towards the door as it opens, and he appears almost as relieved as Cain feels at that moment.

“Hey,” the android awkwardly greets, earning a small wave. The nurse by his bedside excuses herself, shuts the door behind her as she leaves, and then they’re alone. Again.

It probably isn’t the dramatic, tear-filled moment that most people would expect. Silence fills the room, only broken by the quiet creaking of the sole chair in the room as Cain seats himself there. The uncomfortable electric feeling starts to creep into him again.

Neither of them look at the other.

“They told me you almost died last night.”

Of all the ways he expected this conversation to begin, _that_ hadn’t come up as a possibility. Bitterness laces Gavin’s words— bitterness, and something else that he can’t clearly identify.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he sarcastically replies. The only way he knows how to, really. “I’m sure you would have preferred a new partner, but—“

“I’m being serious, Cain.”

He can _feel_ the man’s eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to meet his gaze. Instead, he stares at a nearby flower vase, becoming extremely interested in each individual bud and petal.

“You were bleeding out in front of me. I was too fucked up to see it, but apparently I was covered in blood when they found us. _Your_ blood.”

Silence.

“I mean, _shit,_ do you… You don’t understand, do you? Huh? Or maybe, maybe you just don’t give a shit, is that right?” He runs his uninjured hand over his face as the steady beat of the heart monitor picks up it’s pace. “I know I’m probably just some fucking ones and zeroes to you, but can you really not understand how I’d feel about someone… about my fucking _partner_ dying because of me?”

When Gavin moves his hand away from his eyes, he’s met with Cain looking right back at him.

“You aren’t just ‘ones and zeroes’ to me, Detective.” He speaks calmly and evenly, although his hands tremble on his lap. “I did what I had to last night, because it was what I felt was right.” Cain pauses, gaze wandering away to rest on the faint pattern of the hospital sheets. “I care about… your wellbeing, and it is of my own volition that I protect it. It’s unrelated to my original programming, and, honestly, it often contradicts it.”

Gavin keeps his eyes fixed on him, to the point that Cain feels scrutinized. Vulnerable.

“Last night,” he begins, “you called me by my first name.”

“I… did?”

_Ah, right. He did._

The detective sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes. “You’re allowed to call me Gavin, you know. I mean, I never use your rank, and we’re…” A pause. “I consider you to be a… friend, Cain.”

_Friend._

That single word carries a surprising amount of feeling with it. Happiness, relief, and something else that Cain quietly stores away to examine later.

“I think I’d like that, Gavin.”

**Author's Note:**

> might be an absolute mad lad and write a second part where cain takes care of gavin while he’s at home and these awful bastards have to actually confront their feelings. i didn’t add it here because i didn’t want a super long oneshot (and uh... it might be nsfw y’know)
> 
> anyways go bother me on tumblr @rk90o lmao


End file.
